


Stark Spangled Public Relations

by orphan_account



Series: Relating to the Public [1]
Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Worries, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Media Circus, News Media, Panic Attacks, Pepper Worries, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), They have to address the media, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2310908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When aliens attack New York and are defeated, the world is watching and someones got to say something. Nick Fury wants Captain America to do it, but not alone.</p><p>Iron Man's a front page darling, well-versed in pleasing a crowd, and quite possibly the last man on earth to want to help Steve Rogers, but he's going to try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stark Spangled Public Relations

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to do a full length fic done in parts.  
> A slow build, and will be updated as regularly as possible.
> 
> This is just part one out of x-
> 
> (I have no clue about the title)

It sparks and sputters like a dying candle on a dark night. Steady hands and a measured breath attempt to reconnect the fine fiber filaments to the core of the tiny machine, willing it to life. A steady beat of the music pounds in rhythm with his heart as he completes the circuit and is illuminated by a burnished orange glow.

“So you’ve made a glorified desk lamp.” Bruce Banner says, reentering the shared lab space of two slightly deranged and slovenly scientists-cum-superheroes juggling a file and two cups of what Tony desperately hopes is his bi-hourly coffee.

“No, I’ve removed the need to ever replace a lightbulb again, but I’ll accept the thank you now, as I already finished upgrading mine and moved onto yours.” Tony says, swiveling around to watch Bruce pick his away around half completed machines to his ‘side’ of the lab.

After New York and it’s inevitable consequences, Bruce and Tony had established a fine and beautiful coping method; working until one either passed out or left the lab for food.

At least, thats what Tony unilaterally decided was both their coping methods, as it really was just simply his. Sleep was one thing he lately avoided and didn’t really need anyway, what with all that is to be done like fixing up old lamps and fixing up new lamps and he probably should check out the fridge light while he’s at it and maybe consider giving Dum-E an upgrade because really that poor thing can barely function as it is without almost killing itself or someone in the room and that just won’t do. The killing of itself, because Tony resolutely refuses to think about any kind of death or destruction and to be truthfully brutally honest he really doesn’t think he could handle even the robotic death or short circuiting inept robots who topple themselves over constantly an-

“Tony.” Bruce said, setting down the coffee he’d apparently been holding out to him for the past crucial seconds of Tonys running monologue.

“I don’t like to be handed things.” Tony said cocking a sardonic eyebrow to match Banner’s unimpressed one.

“Right,” Bruce sighed, slumping down in his own chair across the lab and gently pushing aside the chitori samples he’s been studying, “She called again.”

“Mhm.” Tony replied, already turning back to the holo-screen he’d called up in search of things to fix, repair or upgrade and decisively ignoring the armor files and news updates.

“You’re going to have to answer one of these days.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m not going to filter Jarvis after he already filters her.”

“Mhm.”

“She’ll keep calling.”

“Mhm, and I’ll keep giving you monosyllabic responses. Trying the same thing and expecting different results is a sign of insanity Dr. Banner.”

“So’s giving the toaster a discretionary VI that refuses to toast Pop Tarts, Mr. Stark. Call her.”

“Mhm.”

Bruce huffed and turned his back on Tony and poked around his own screen and beginning to make plans for himself.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Look Cap, I ain’t lyiin’ to ya here. Shit happens. And you and the Avengers dealt with it yeah, whoopee your goddamn heroes, but someone needs to make a statement and right now you're up.”

Nick Fury clasped his palms together on the desk and eyed the super soldier seated across from him, and was greeted with an unimpressed glare back.

“I’ve been making a statement, helping with restoration should be more than enough. This media circus is more Starks territory. After all it was his poncey ass tower that has a literal hell door opened above it.” Steve Rogers snapped back, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I can’t be of much use outside a battlefield sir.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong Cap. Media ain’t like it used to be, it’s a goddamn war zone nowadays. Media favoritism leads to public support leads to government funding and you and your teams asses won’t be charged as a threat to national security for all the damage caused with your hijinks.”

“Hijinks!” Steve exclaimed, “We saved New York to the best of our abilities, no one can fault us for doing what we could with what was available to us. And I’m pretty sure what we did is a damn site better than leveling all of New York. Or are you forgetting the government's alternative.”

Fury sighed and ran a hand down his face and fixed Steve with a square look. “Listen, I’m not saying what you guys did wasn’t great and all, but someones got to come forward and say…. something, anything! Barton and Romanov can’t because they’re literally specters anyway and aren’t even supposed to be seen. Thors flapped off somewhere not here with that demon of his, and Banners not exactly my first choice to be put in front of large crowds of people. America needs it’s hero.”

“Then you should call Stark. Allot credit where credit is due, he did stop their invasion.”

“You think I’m unaware? SHIELD’s been replaying the feeds hourly to make preparations to stop things like this from happening again. I’ve tried getting ahold of him, then tried getting his company’s showrunner to do it. From what I’ve heard, Potts ain’t having any luck getting onto his smarmy ass either.”

“So Starks M.I.A?” Steve said, maintaining a look of calculated disbelief.

“Oh no, we know he’s holed up in his lab in that tower of his like some mad-cackling Frankenstein. Banners been giving Potts regular updates and she in turn to me.”

“Why not just go get him, surely he’d love to boast about himself and his ultimate show of superiority.”

“Cap, one, I’m not sending agents up against an egotistical weapons manufacturer with armor plating on toilet stall doors, and two, I’m not real sure where he’s at mentally. From what I hear, he’s building toasters to disobey toasting orders, I have no clue what he’s up to now. Potts says this is like he was back from Afghanistan and I ain’t messin’ with that shit.”

“Tony was in Afghanistan?” Steve asked, leaning forward.

“Yeah, bit of a international fuckshow, but he was. It’s in his files…. Or,”

“Or?”

“Or you could ask him, seeing as his whole tower of fun was the epicenter of our near doom, be a good place as any to hold a few press conferences with the man who threw a nuke and then a fit and America’s favourite poster-boy.”

“Tony hates me, he’s not going to go for that. He’s too independent to be called upon for some crap excuse as a team ‘pow-wow’ in front of the news.”

Fury leveled him with an unimpressed look and said, “It’s either you get Starks ass out of the tower for a goddamn conference and make it seem like the teams not shit and the world doesn’t have a bunch of children saving it, or, you do it on your own and I agree to sending you out for that Playgirl monthly feature they’ve been all too keen on getting you to do.”

“You wouldn’t, I wouldn’t! I-” Steve said, half rising out of his chair, eyebrows pulled and mouth pursing.

“Contractual obligations are a finicky bitch Cap, I am not above abusing the fact we melted your ass out of an ice cube, and I signed off all the papers over you.” Fury replied, leaning back in his chair with an air of victory as he swept a hand over an icon and in the same supine motion indicated Captain America the opening door.

Steve rose out of his chair, gave a tight salute and spun on his heel out the door. His boots echoed down the overly lit white hall as he strode towards the elevator bank. Rounding the corner Steve raised an eyebrow as Natasha fell in step beside him.

“Fury tell you to dance?” She asked, shooting him a similarly bland expression with a hint of a smirk rising to the front.

“With Stark no less. Says we’ll make the dream team seem like the Brady Bunch.”

“Made it to the 70’s I see.” She smiled, slowing to a stop with Steve as they neared the elevator bay, “You know… Donna from accounting was born at the end of the seventies.” Natasha intoned, glancing up to meet Steves eyes mid-roll.

“I’m a little bit busy right now, Natasha. Post- world saving usually takes a lot out of me.” Steve said, turning to face her with a put-upon frown and hands to his hips. “I’m not… I’m not really looking for a kacky-wacky dame wanting drinks with the ‘First Avenger’. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the thought, Nat, but,” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and jabbed the elevator call button, “...look, I’m sure she’s a swell girl, I’ve just got a lot going on.”

The Widows face remained as impassive and inscrutable as ever as she looked at him.  
“Kacky-wacky?” She repeated, cocking an eyebrow as the elevator slid open with a soft ding.

Steve groaned as they descended to the ground floor.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His heart pounds and he can feel it beating against the the reactor. Feel it push against the casing harder and harder as he angles his repulsors towards the ground. He knows thats not right. That’s not right at all. He catches onto the death missile, fitting it matches his old designs, fancies he can see where they filed out the logo. He holds tight and pulls with him the mechanism of their destruction.

The aliens destruction. Not theirs. No. That would be bad. Like big bad. Big boom bad, with pounding waves of complete annihilation of heat and fire and pressure and so much pressure on his chest as he flies the payload through the portal and wow, thats not right at all… He can see his systems failing, the air leaving his lungs and refusing to being drawn back in and sees the destruction of the goddamn army. There’s a fucking army of them, holy shit, that’s imposs- no it’s completely possible, plausible? Improbable? No, what’s Improbable is building a suit- “Take that away, what are you?”- building a portable arc reactor that’s, wow this hurts, dyings peaceful right? Wow, this hurts a lot actually like, like it’s being-

He looks down and can see the reactor being pushed from his chest, feels its casing slide out of the scar tissue and rip through the flesh, it’s breaking apart and being pulled into the empty nothingness that enveloping him, holding him as he pulls apart from the inside out as he sees his vision blur and feels his hands pull as his chest, trying to put it back in, trying to put his heart back in but it’s beating to fast and he can’t draw breath and it’s happening too fast too quick and he’s out of air he’s out of time, out of luck and all he wants to do is die or live or ohpleaseGod let me LIV-

A high pitched alarm screeched, yanking Tony out of that particular terror he kept reliving everytime he slept. Slept or just dropping unconscious from exhaustion were really the same thing, just somethings were often more risky when using power tools or in this case a soldering iron that was kind enough to light the better half of the piles of forgotten paperwork he should sign with more than coffee cup rings, into a small, but impressive flame that he should probably put out before Dum-E gets it into his little coded head to douse him and the, what appears to be the upgraded oven light, in an overly enthusiastic spray of the extinguisher.

As said bot begins rolling towards him, Tony scrubs his, wet?, eyes and puts out the flame with a few good shakes of the ruined pages.

“Jarvis.” Tony says, calmly shaking out the pages and letting the ashes drift to the floor, and most definitely not shaking. Or trembling. Or doing anything out of the ordinary like breathing too fast, or calculating just exactly how fast his heart was beating because what if it actually did begin pushing against the reactor, dislodge it or force it into a-

“Sir.” The AI replied, if a bit hesitant, tentative, at not, absolutely not, interrupting his maker during a medium to extreme panic fit. If Tony were in the whimsy mood he’d say the AI was worried.

If.

Right now he’s fluctuating between very much wanting to a) vomit, b) cry, c) blow up the workshop, d) an amalgamation of the three, and not too much focusing on the semantics of his AI’s adaptive learning code and how it/he may/may not be a new age snarky Skynet.

“...Time?” He bit out, dumping the papers back onto the table and gripping it’s edge, breathing hard trying to get his heart rate to stop pushing out his- to stop racing.

“It’s currently eleven seventeen a.m. On a Tuesday afternoon.”

“And Bruce is..”

“Dr. Banner has left the Tower for a lunch meeting with Ms. Potts.”

“Right. Okay. Good. Um.” Tony stiffly eased back onto the stool, resolutely ignoring the residual feeling of impending death and despair, and desperately wishing for the feeling of a different kind of double D’s or really anything to get his mind off dying in space alo-

“Sir, several messages have been left for you.”

Tony twisted around and pressed his palms against his eyes, one hell of a caffeine withdrawal headsmasher coming on.

“If they’re from Pepper, she and Bruce are already talking about whatever they talk about that rhymes with Pony Snark; trash ‘em, if they come from Fury, send automated reply… fuck, 006? 015? Whichever involves the Eye-patch code that connects all Hammer IT callers to his personal.” He said, dropping one hand and leaving his eyes covered and seriously considering the fine motor control capabilities of Dum-E and his prospective whiskey pouring skills.

“Very well sir, that leaves just one.” Jarvis said, dutifully pulling up the holographic screen to Tony’s already waving hand as he began flicking through screens to get to the last message. He reached the screen and cracked an eye at it.

“What the hell does Captain Righteous want?” Tony said, peering closer at the screen and flicking the play icon.

The Captains voice rang out all professionalism and ice. Tony may or may not have cracked a smile at that thought.

“Stark,” he began and, Jesus, Tony thought, does this guy just have a perpetual stick up his ass? He sounds like a drill sergeant, “S.H.I.E.L.D.s asked for a press conference now that most of the heavy damage to the city has been cleaned up.”

Tony snorted, as if it wouldn’t take the better part of the next three years to clean up this mess. The city had billions of dollars in damage, restoration was slow, and the entire world was laser focused on the rag tag team of superheroes and what hell they might unleash yet. Captain Americas recorded voice continued, 

“Most of the team is unavailable for the conference or,” And Tony could almost see the derision in his voice, “-‘apologetically opted out due to a health condition of being allergic to cameras and partial to turning green’- and-”,

and to be brutally honest Tony is a genius. He can see where this is going and time really is money to him, a lot of money and he can’t wait to respectfully turn down the Captain with an excuse of money-making, genius-being, and general-fun-having rather than sit on a stage with ‘the Craptain’ himself. In being such a genius as this, he can’t also be blamed for missing the rest of the message of Captain Rogers already clearing his schedule with Ms. Potts and informing Tony that he’d be by the Tower at noon Tuesday for a briefing that would be anything but brief. 

Two of these three things Jarvis will remind Tony of at eleven forty-five a.m. (amid many angered curses and frantic phone calls for escapes) and the last thing Tony will learn for himself. The difficult way.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
11:53 a.m.

Steve Rogers sat astride his bike in the parking garage underneath the largely repaired Stark Tower and pulled his helmet off, careful not to shake loose the Bluetooth device he was listening to in his ear. Phones, and all forms of communication he decided had been his most favourite thing about the future, there were no longer problems of being able to contact someone or being able to find them, whether they live down the street or across the sea, they did however make it incredibly difficult to go off any radar or just find some peace and quiet. Which, Steve thought, I won’t have any of for the rest of today.

Natasha’s monotone voice continued pouring into his ear as he dismounted the bike,

“- and remember that Starks been cooped up in that lab for weeks so he’s either drunk, in the development process of devices of mass destruction, in the testing process of said devices, or,” and Steve could hear her smirking, “blown to pieces from said devices.”

“I’m sure he’s more busy than that, his names on the tower after all, wouldn’t be there for nothing.” Steve said, still feeling awkward about talking to the air.

“I was his P.A. Trust me, he’s not.”

“You were undercover.”

“And that’s why I chose to be his P.A. He still has Pepper do everything, and cancelled all his appointments anyways.”

“Working hard as usual, then?” 

“Never a day off; now quit stalling and go bribe the billionaire to doing a press conference.” Natasha said, ending the call before Steve could object. He was not stalling. If anything it was a… temporary hesitation, a mental pep-talk to keep him from particular words that more or less would end up in no Iron Man aide for the press conference, or much less any aide at all. 

Steve sighed as he reached the elevator door and pulled the Bluetooth from his ear, placing it into his pocket and staring at the panel of buttons that led to the near hundred floors of the tower. He hovered a hand over the panel as a voice filled the elevator,

“Greetings Captain Rogers,-”

“Uh?” Steve looked around and peered at the security camera in the corner.

“-I am Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, in service of Mr. Stark and incorporated into the running of Stark Towers.”

“That’s… Um, wow that’s impressive. I didn’t know anything like you existed yet, future or no.” Steve said, still directing his words towards the camera.

“I, like many things now, exist at the once whims of Tony Stark, whom you’ll be seeing in just a moment, sir. Shall I take you to the penthouse to await his arrival?” The British voice intoned.

“Yes, thank you… Ah. Um?”

“JARVIS, sir.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.” Steve said, smiling and clasping his hands behind his back in a relaxed parade rest.

“My pleasure, Captain.” JARVIS said as the elevator swept up the dozens of floors to the suites above.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile…

“JARVIS, NO.”

“Sir, Captain Rogers is awaiting your arrival in the suite. Miss Potts has used the overrides and I’m afraid I cannot, as you say, “get his star-spangled perfect ass out the Tower” nor give you access to the workbench until you’ve met with the Captain.”

“He’s not even a real captain. There’s no way. There’s military protocol or something. He’s S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever. The guys a puppet. I don’t want to.” Tony continued as he slammed shut toolboxes and stormed his way around the workshop, grease stained hands rubbing frantically on rags and trying in vain to tame wild hair. 

He paused just as the door and checked his reflection in the glass. Oil and grease stained his jeans at the thighs and pockets from careless hand cleanings, and he thanked the powers above for his dark t-shirt that hid most of everything else. His arc reactor glow shone through the shirt, muted but visible and he touched a hand to it briefly, closed his eyes and took a deep breath before swinging open the door and marching upstairs. Whether he muttered curses or particular lines of code he’d love to add to JARVIS’ mainframe as he went, was left to the imagination.

He trundled down the steps and affected a light jaunty walk as he neared the penthouse, uptight or not, he was going to be damned if he looked anything less than stellar to the Captain.

Which is close to what the Captain’s looking like, Tony thought as he approached. Captain America stood facing out to the city at the window, hands clasped tight. Gone were the ahk!-khakis, replaced by modern looking jeans and boots, topped with a careworn leather jacket that had to have been the original if Tony were in the chronological dating mood… but he wasn’t, so he circumvented the temporary plywood spot on the floor where the Hulk had ground a god into his tiles and began to noisily make a drink to get the Captains attention. 

Tony clinked and clanked glasses and looked across the room, dragging his eyes up from the fastidiously shined boots to the perfectly... hugged... ass, oh my sweet lord Captain Tight Pants, whoever did your shopping is a god or a devil in disguise.

Swallowing and finished pouring his drink Tony looked up into the cocked impassive eyebrow raise that Rogers definitely had learned from the Widow. He’d been definitely caught looking.

“Looking for the stick, Cap.” Tony smirked out, winking and moving around to the front of the bar, indicating to the couch before him for Rogers to sit down with a mock, whiskey handed salute.

Steve sighed and sat down, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose but only just. He knew Stark was just trying to get a rise out of him, he just had to get this over with and then wait for the actual press conference, and that would be that.

“Listen, Stark, it’s been about three months since-”

“-since we saved the world from an invasion, or do you mean since we saved New York from the people meant to protect it?” Tony said, losing a little more than half his host manners with his snark. He surprised himself with his vitriol and attributed it to the dream he had that probably didn’t help him and his views of the previous months, or his lack of sleep.

“Um-” Steve said, looking at Tony as his brows drew together and placing his hands on his knees and more than surprised at Stark’s rancor.

“Listen up Capsicle, I’ve done this song and dance many a-time after many a-screw-up, but I’m not doing it for Fury.” Tony continued, setting down his drink to hide his shaking hands. He really should’ve slept, or tried some of Bruce’s yoga poses, or done something other than pitch fits about the Director in front of his personal lap dog. “My scanners were interrupted when the helicarrier was hit during the battle, but I know he’s hiding something, and I am not sticking my neck out for Pop-Eye anymore, I’ve got my own things to worry about.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and propped them on his hips, looking at the Captain from across the coffee table. Steve was leaned forward, mouth open to say something but he snapped it shut and looked at Tony. Really looked.

And it hit him. Steve had seen that look. Seen it often enough in the war, in the halls of S.H.I.E.L.D, and in the mirror. Red ringed-copper met his blue and Steve understood where Stark was coming from, but he did need to get someone for the press conference, and he wasn’t easily cowed. 

“A press conference would do good not just to Fury, but to Stark Industries as well.” Steve said, leaning back into the seat and attempting to appear unaffected by the thousand yard stare Iron Man was leveling back at him, he decided to soldier on, “I mean, this was the veritable epicenter. A little question-answer session would be good for the public, good for the company, good for getting you out of the Tow-”

“Tell Pepper she can do her press conference without me, she has before.” Tony said, smirking, visibly more calm now the conversation had shifted from S.H.I.E.L.D.

Unfazed, Steve smirked back and continued, “Miss Potts did tell me, when I enquired about your schedule, that I should use the ‘company needs it’ angle, but because it does need it. Something about the NASDAQ, stocks and investors.” Tony snorted. “...She’s also worried about you. Doctor Banner as well from what I’ve been told when corresponding between them, Fury, and myself.”

Tony crossed his arms and looked at Steve for a moment. Whether he was regarding him or calculating the current market fluctuations, or designing the best way to launch him out the window, Steve wasn’t too sure. Moments passed and Steve began to feel uncomfortable when Tony broke into a devilish grin.

“It was Playgirl wasn’t it.” He didn’t phrase it like a question.

“Excuse m-”

“Playgirl. The naughty mag, Fury’s holding that over your head isn’t he.” 

“How do y-” Steve was becoming acutely aware why he didn’t like Stark. Non sequiturs 

“Cap, of course I know about Playgirls superhero exclusives this year, I pitched them the idea.”

“Why would yo- No, nevermind I don’t want to know.” Steve no longer resisted pinching the bridge of his nose as he could feel a storm of a headache coming to fruition. 

“What’s the matter Cap? ‘Fraid to show a little skin for the women of America? Shy?” Tony pressed on, like a hound after a scent, feeling smug about driving the conversation away from the press conference he didn’t want to do and hopefully getting the Star Spangled Man with a Plan out of his Tower.

Steve rolled his eyes and knew he was getting sidetracked,  
“Mr. Stark-”

“Tony, please, Mr. Stark was my father.” 

Steve leveled Tony with a glare, “-Tony- You’re a businessman. You know the ins and outs of marketing and product placement. When I first became ‘Captain America’ I sold war bonds. To women. Stuck at home while their men were at war.” Tony’s eyes were comparable to dinner plates, “I’m no stranger to showing skin, but I’m only going to do it for a cause. I would however, prefer this time be spent doing a press conference beneficial to Fury, Stark Industries... and the Avengers.” 

Tony cocked an eyebrow, “Since when did you want anything more to do with the Avengers?” He can’t say he could deny they did great together, and that he hadn’t kept tabs on everyone after they’d split apart in the event of another catastrophic event. Not that he was paranoid, or feared being alone in a fight with no one to catch him falling in the voi-

“Since I realized we were a good team.” Steve met Tony’s eyes and smirked. “We did an amazing thing and I believe we can do more good together than apart.”

The thing that Tony hates (admires) most about Steve Rogers is his earnest sincerity and goddamn heart of gold that shines so bright, everyone in the vicinity is either blinded by it or glow with it. He can feel his smug sense of superiority drop, he can feel it and he knows the Captains using his Boy Scout charm to do it. He knows he’s doing it… and he’s going to be doing the damn conference isn’t he?

Damn it.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve knew the exact moment he’d won Stark over.

As soon as Starks look shifted from smugness to thoughtfulness and hope? Was that hope? Steve began grinning. He couldn’t help it, despite his love to hate the man, that glimmer of hope cemented Steves idea that Stark shared his ideas about the Avengers, about what they could accomplish.

“Oh you cheeky bastard!” Tony said, helpless to do anything but smile along.“You knew! You and those pretty boy looks, I’m getting you away from Romanov, she’s teaching you how to be subversive!”

“Natasha’s merely proven that looks can get you what you want more effectively, if anything I’ve just learned by example, no formal training.” Steve said back, smiling easily and relaxing, something he’d never thought he’d do around Tony Stark. “So, you’ll do it?”

Tony leaned back and cast an analytical eye over the Captain. He’d underestimated him, and now he knows to never do it again. He stuck out a hand,

“For the Avengers.”

“The Avengers.” Steve replied, gripping his hand and shaking once.

Tony released and pulled out his phone, and dialed Pepper, something he hadn’t done in weeks. Casting one last appraising eye over the Captain he smirked into his phone when she answered,

“Pepper, get me Stark Towers rep team, and find me a good venue, we’ve got a conference to run.”

Steve leaned back into the couch and grinned.


End file.
